Not Exactly Part of the Plan
by Jackson the Griffin-Breeder
Summary: Life was going great for Kyoya-realizing he was in love with one of his best friends wasn't part of the plan. Especially since it was obvious she would never feel the same way. Kyoharu (background TamaKao because I'm a sucker for those idiots and there's not enough written about them)


Headcannon note (only vaguely important): For some reason I can't stomach the idea of Kyoya being the next head of the family business. I feel like he's much too creative to be happy owning something that's not his own intellectual property, and he's certainly resourceful enough to start something on his own. Part of me wants to believe that his father sees the same thing and would have helped him along in whatever ways possible, and that maybe they've repaired their relationship a bit. Of course, part of me also thinks Kyoya would cut himself off from his family and start over from scratch (but as fun as that is I'm not sure it's as realistic—I don't think he'd ever purposely cut ties with his siblings.) For the purposes of this story (and like half of my grown-up!Kyoya headcannons), I've given him his own business to run. He owns and operates Skeleton Security Services (don't laugh, Tamaki named it, not me)—a security and preservation service, specifically for museums, high-end theaters, special-interest and private libraries, etc. This involves everything from supplying security guards to installing temperature/humidity control in museum exhibits. I'd really like to see the company's first break be Ouran related (you can't convince me they don't have a special collections in their library, even if it's just yearbooks. Seriously, they probably have tour guides.). For the purposes of this story, he started the business halfway through his last year of college, so it's been a few years and the company is finally starting to stand up by itself.

Haruhi, of course, has just graduated, and has been scooped up by the firm that she interned with. She's pretty excited.

* * *

><p>Kyoya felt terrible. Well<em>, terrible<em> probably wasn't the word. _Guilty_? No, not that either. _Frustrated _came to mind, but he was sure it was more like _on edge_. Somewhere in there, anyhow.

Which was stupid, to be honest. He should have been feeling relief.

For the first time since he'd started on his own, his business was at a place where he didn't have to worry about it. The numbers reported to him at the end of the business day had been perfect—better than, actually. He wasn't just a business owner anymore. As of today, he was a _successful _business owner. Not to mention, he'd landed a contract with a rather influential art collector.

So what was wrong?

He pulled off the tie he'd just put on (it looked like it matched on the hanger but the mirror was pretty clear about those things) and hung it up in favor of the nice light blue one his sister always picked out ("It makes you look more trustworthy and less like you are planning murder. You know your resting face is intimidating—trust me, this helps!"). When he was finished with the tie and the jacket, he checked the mirror again, just to make sure. He looked exhausted.

_What's wrong with me? _

Oh well. Whatever it was, he hoped it went away before he figured it out. This graduation party the twins were throwing for Haruhi was bound to be loud, and he really didn't want a headache on top of it. He sighed, took a few over-the-counter painkillers with a cup of coffee, and headed toward the restaurant to meet his friends.

"This is supposed to be fun," he told himself, "Just relax and enjoy the party. I'll figure out my problems later."

Haruhi was miserable. Their dinner party (excuse me, _graduation_ dinner party) was in full-swing, and Kyoya hadn't shown up yet. Part of her was glad—he'd been looking a bit worse for wear lately, and she knew he hadn't been sleeping much. Maybe he'd fallen asleep? On the other hand, she was left in a group full of extroverts—and she was the expected center of attention. She'd never particularly liked the spotlight.

Not to mention, Tamaki had shown up a few minutes early, looking nervous, and asked to talk to her after the party. He was her friend, so of course she accepted, but she was still a bit worried. He'd said something about an epiphany, and a mutual friend. Hm.

Whatever. It was loud, and the night had only just begun. She wished Kyoya would get there so he could moderate. Besides, she'd checked the stocks. Kyoya's company was doing great, and he was probably stoked. Maybe his positivity would rub off?

The first thing Kyoya noticed when he walked in the room was that Haruhi was sitting next to Tamaki, smiling and nodding as he gestured wildly (but somehow gracefully?) and patted her sweetly on the shoulder. He couldn't hear what his friend was saying, but it must have been good because Haruhi was blushing a bit and turning back to her appetizer. His hand stayed on her shoulder.

There was something going on. They were too close for friends—physically, anyhow. Their chairs were too close. It wasn't like they were hanging off of each other, but there was something, _something_ going on there, and Kyoya wasn't sure he liked it. In fact, he was sure he hated it. Somehow, this situation was the source of his bad attitude.

_Are they? Does she—does she love him?_ He'd suspected Tamaki's true feelings weren't exactly parental (all these years later he was still calling her daughter), but he hadn't considered that she would reciprocate. Tamaki was a bit—well, theatrical, for her tastes. Nevertheless, it seemed like a stupid reason to be so upset. Was he really that worked up because his friends were possibly in love? _Is it because I should have known? Is it because this will change the dynamic of our little family? It's not because Tamaki's in love—I've known that. Is it because Haruhi is?_

_Oh._

He blushed softly_. I can't be jealous, can I?_

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He would work out his feelings later. First, he had to give her the graduation card he'd brought and eat dinner with them all without letting anyone see how confused and distressed he was. Mission Pretend-everything's-okay-so-none-of-your-friends-ask-intrusive-questions was a go.

Unfortunately, Haruhi had spotted him from her seat and when he opened his eyes she was looking up at him expectantly. "Kyoya? What's wrong? You look worried about something."

Mission failed. Trust her to see right through him.

And suddenly, in the space it took to say, "Nothing, I'm just a bit tired. Congratulations on your graduation, Haruhi!" and hand over the card, he relived every moment she had ever seen through him before. Every act, every glance away, every avoidance. Every time she gave him that slightly confused look and, in patented Columbo fashion, asked the exact right question in the exact right way that made him give up and tell her everything. In seconds, he remembered every time she'd wrapped his emotional wounds, every time she'd reassured him that it would work out in the end, and every time she'd given him great advice at the perfect time. And in the time it took for her to blush and accept the card he handed her and say, "Thanks! I hear you've got some celebrating to do too!", he realized that she was the most perfect, most amazing human being on the planet and that he was hopelessly, ridiculously in love with her.

And for a moment he was happy that he'd realized it. But then Tamaki yelled a greeting from across the room and he was suddenly imagining Tamaki's ring on her finger, and Tamaki's child in her lap, and Tamaki's hand in hers for all eternity, and his elation at finding the problem turned into a sad acceptance of his place in her life. He was her supportive best friend—that's how it had been, and how it would be. He wasn't about to let her down. If she loved Tamaki, and Tamaki loved her, he wasn't about to stand in the way of their happiness.

He waved at Tamaki and looked down at Haruhi, smiling. "Yes, we've done very well. I'm very proud. I didn't get to tell you yet, but we landed the contract I was telling you about! It's been a good week for us."

"Oh that's great!" she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the table. "I've ordered an appetizer for you since you weren't here. I wasn't sure when you were going to show up." She motioned to the chair Tamaki had been occupying earlier (Tamaki had gone over to sit next to the twins, apparently). He looked down at the bruchetta on his plate and smiled. It was one of the only things about Italian food he liked. Leave it to Haruhi to order what was probably the only thing on the menu he would enjoy.

"I'm not letting you off the hook, you know. I know something's up."

He blinked in her direction, food half-way to his mouth. She wasn't even looking at him, she was busy stabbing her salad rather viciously.

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about!"

She set down her fork and sighed, resting her head in her left palm and turning to face him. "Look, Kyo, you may be able to fool everyone else at this table into thinking you are happy, but you can't fool me. I thought it was just the pressure from your business, but it's going great. I know you haven't been sleeping too well, and while I'm sure that's some of the problem, I'm not sure it's not just a symptom of a bigger problem."

He looked a bit stunned (and he felt a bit panicked. She'd never accept a lie, she'd know. And he wasn't going to tell her how he felt when clearly it wasn't a mutual feeling. Not to mention, he'd only just figured it out. He needed time.).

But she seemed to notice his reluctance because her eyes softened and she brought her hand up to pat his cheek reassuringly. "It's okay, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. Just know you can, if you want to. I don't want you bottling everything up. It'll make you sick." Then Kaoru called her name and her attention was caught and he was left staring at her with bruchetta in one hand and his universe crashing in the background.


End file.
